Ancient, Modern, or Sexual?
by totheextraordinarykb
Summary: Richard Castle and Kate Beckett already dated and broke up disastrously - but now circumstances are forcing them to work together, years later. What will happen now? Starts with "Flowers for Your Grave" .
1. March 9th, 2009

**Ancient, Modern, or Sexual?**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or any of its characters. I'm honored just to get the chance to play around in this universe for an hour or two at a time._

**IN THE INTEREST OF CLARIFICATION:**

**Chapters will take place in different years. **2009 is the year we met the members of the 12th and Richard Castle. 2001 is two years after the death of Johanna Beckett (murdered on January 9, 1999) and Kate's senior year at NYU.

* * *

_**March 9th, 2009:**_

Kate Beckett strode into the crime scene, confident and poised. The youngest to ever make homicide detective, she was determined to prove herself at every scene. Her eyes scanned the flat, observing every detail, before she arrived at the body where her team was waiting for her.

She kneeled beside the body, examining it, as Lanie continued to take notes. Esposito and Ryan returned from being briefed by the patrol cops that had first secured the scene, just as Beckett asked her normal question to the victim, "Who are you?"

The scene stirred a memory in her mind, words from a book floating through her mind, but she pushed it aside, hoping it would not end up being HIS book, HIS murder. Esposito shook her from her inner montage, offering up details on the victim. A social worker with a 400 grand apartment – Dad's money.

Lanie joined the group, offering up a quip, "Who says romance is dead?"

Trading sarcastic looks, she glares at her best friend. "I do, every Saturday night."

Without a beat, Lanie shoots back, "A little lipstick wouldn't hurt. Just sayin'." From the corner of her eyes, she sees Esposito and Ryan nudge each other, enjoying the interplay between the women, and she shoots them a glare. She is, after all, their boss, and she needs to remain in control.

"So, Lanie, how did she die?" Not two bullets, not two bullets, she chanted internally. She wasn't ready for this to be a copy cat, because she knew what would come next – they'd drag him in, and she'd have to question him.

"Two bullets, small caliber, to the chest."

The similarities could not be overlooked. Even as she walked around the body, pointing out details to the newer detectives, taking the opportunity to teach them, her mind raced with the implications. She hadn't seen him in eight years, avoided all his normal hangouts. She had even made sure to buy his books with cash, wanting no trail to connect herself to him. The break up had not been pleasant, and she had never fully recovered from losing him. But now…

Esposito's question cut through. "You really get that from just this?"

And now it was time to face the music. "This, plus, I've seen this before." The detectives only looked at her blankly as she said, "Roses on her body, sunflowers on her eyes…?" The guys looked at her blankly, as Lanie's face showed recognition. She rolled her eyes. "Don't you guys read?"

Lanie breathed out, "You _are_ talking about him! Richard Castle, best-seller author, handsome –"

Beckett interrupted her quickly. "Just because you like to admire the back sleeve, Lanie, doesn't mean the rest of us do. Boys, go call the publishing company. Find out where Mr. Castle is so I can take him in for questioning." The boys nodded, before grabbing their cell phones and heading to a corner. Lanie shot her a look. "What?" Kate grumbled, already annoyed, already dreading the reunion.

"Richard Castle. Ex-boyfriend, huh?" Lanie's voice dropped a notch as Beckett nodded at the people around them, urging her not to speak so loudly. "So now you get to question him? Please tell me you're going to torture him. Can I get a ticket? I want to see this."

"Oh come on, Lanie, it's just a questioning. Need to get his alibi, his fan letters that's all. With any luck, he won't remember me." The idea was like a shot to her gut. She knew he lead a partying life style… it was altogether plausible he wouldn't remember her from their whirlwind romance. But she wasn't sure whether which would hurt more: him remembering, or him not even knowing who she was.

Lanie shook her head. "Girl, he's going to remember, and he's going to be all over you. I hope you're ready for it." She reached over to put her hand on the detective's arm. "Just be careful, okay? It took so long for you to put yourself back together. Don't let him destroy you again."

Kate shrugged, moving off into the night. "I'll figure it out." And, as an afterthought, she shouted back to Lanie, "Remember, not a word!" Esposito walked beside her as she exited the apartment, handing over an address with an explanation that it was a book signing for his latest novel.

She knew that, actually. She had known where he would be before she had asked the boys to track Richard Castle down. But being a detective was hard enough. She was not going to let on that their prime suspect at the moment just happened to be her ex-boyfriend – and the only man she had ever really loved.

Yeah, that would be great for her reputation. She scowled as she slammed shut her cruiser's door before turning the key in the ignition. Trust Richard Castle to finally, after all these years, make his way back into her life. "Idiot!" she yelled as she slammed on her break and honked her horn at the cab who had just cut her off. She wasn't sure who she was madder at – the cab driver, herself, or _**him.**_

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_Author's note: Let me know what you think! I was planning on turning this into a multi-chapter fiction. It's supposed to be a "what if?" addressing the question of what would it be like if Castle and Beckett had already dated and broken up years before working together again._

_Depending on interest, I'll continue to work on this fiction, or hang it up as a cool one-shot writing exercise – so please let me know if you're interested in it or not! Thanks for reading and reviewing, as always!_


	2. February 19th, 2001

**IN THE INTEREST OF CLARIFICATION:**

**Chapters will take place in different years. **2009 is the year we met the members of the 12th and Richard Castle. 2001 is two years after the death of Johanna Beckett (murdered on January 9, 1999) and Kate's senior year at NYU.

* * *

_**February 19**__**th**__**, 2001**_

Kate Beckett stood in line, bouncing on her feet. It was a chilly February morning in New York City, only 7 am, and she had been standing here for the last two hours in order to assure that she would meet the famous Richard Castle. She wore her NYU sweatshirt beneath her jacket, but she still found that the chill was cutting through her body.

In her arms, Kate held his latest Derrick Storm novel as well as "In A Hail of Bullets". Theoretically, the emailed information from the bookstore had said Richard Castle would only sign his most recent release, but Kate hoped that when he saw how well-loved her copy of "In A Hail of Bullets" was that the author might make an exception.

Her mother had read this copy at least three times. It had then made its way onto the stack of books Johanna left at the base of Kate's childhood bed, each with a note describing its merits. On every break from Stanford, she'd curl up on the couch, grabbing the book on the top of the pile, and read her way through as many as possible.

It had taken weeks for her to touch the stack after her mother had died, but "In A Hail of Bullets" had been on top, Johanna's handwritten sticky inside: "_A bit overwrought, but it'll take you for a ride_." The first pages were wrinkled now, Kate's tears having fallen onto the pages after seeing her mother's writing once more.

But after the first ten pages, Kate was hooked. Her mother was right – the plot was often farfetched, the characters almost outlandish – but it worked. She was willing to follow the story wherever it took her, and she was not ashamed to admit she had shouted with disapproval at the ending. "You've got to be fucking kidding me! He ended it there with the biggest cliff hanger in history?! Are you fucking with me right now?!" Her father had run into the room and started laughing when he realized what had happened. It took one or two shots of whiskey, but Jim had finally slurred out the story of Johanna first finishing the book, how after her first read she had hit him to wake him up, cursing the author. "You're a lot like her, you know?" he had stated, head cocked, a bit accusatory even, and Kate had excused herself to bed, where she cried for a few minutes before grabbing another of Richard Castle's books from her mother's pile.

From that day on, his books had become refuges. When life got her down, when she thought she would die from the pain of missing her mother, she opened his books and let him take her to a new world.

And now she was going to meet him. She would not tell him her story, but she looked forward to the opportunity to thank him. But the anxiety of meeting someone famous was getting to her, so she looked down at the books in her hands and decided to turn, once again, to comfort in his work.

Sliding to the ground, smiling wistfully to herself at the voice she heard in her head, her mother's, gripping about how disgusting New York City sidewalks were, Kate opened "In A Hail of Bullets" and began to read.

She read as the line grew longer and longer, bending around the block. She read as the bookstore employees walked up the line, apologizing about the wait. She read as the publishing house's interns explained the rules to the waiting fans. She read as a black limo pulled up, about fifteen feet from her. She read as the fans clamored and shouted, pushing as far out onto the sidewalk as the barricades would let them. She read as a shadow fell over her, and the author whose book she was absorbed in cocked his head at her, his expression curious, before his publisher herded him inside.

When the line began to move, Kate stood, still reading, and shuffled inside. One eye trained on the woman in front of her, taking care not to bump her, she focused her attention on the scene on the page. She was getting to her favorite part of the book, where the agents interrogate the bad guy, and through wit, trick him into inadvertently giving up the location of his friends. She loved this scene, loved the power the good guys had, the way they won the fight.

It had been one of the reasons she had decided to become a detective, knowing that she could become that type of powerhouse in the interrogation room. She would, one day, face her mother's killer and force him to confess.

She looked up from the book only after being tapped on the shoulder by a member of Black Pawn's team, who pointed out she was next. Surprised, she folded down the corner of the page as she watched a forty-year-old woman, who had spent most of the time in line primping and preening, giggle at the author. She could not help feel a little bad for him, but was distracted when the intern next to her told her she could not bring "In A Hail of Bullets" to the table. He informed her that she would have to leave it with him before stepping up.

Kate did not let go of the novel, as it had come to be as important to her as her mother's ring around her neck, and she pleaded with the intern, saying she wouldn't have Mr. Castle sign it, but wouldn't he let her hold it? She'd put it in her bag, she promised not to have him sign it, but she didn't want to let it go, couldn't he understand?

The blonde woman that had been lingering behind Richard Castle's chair approached them. After listening for a moment, she informed Kate in no unceremonious terms that she had a choice: she could either release the book for the duration of the time it would take Mr. Castle to sign her Derrick Storm novel or she could leave.

Sighing, disappointed, Kate made the only choice she could – she ducked out of the line. Hugging the novels to her chest, she was annoyed but at least she had seen the author, seen the man who had brought an escape to the darkness.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and she started, pulling out of its grasp while spinning around, exclaiming, "Who do you think –" but the words died in her mouth as she saw the man looking down at her. "Mr. Castle," she whispered, before she recovered her wits. "I'm sorry, Mr. Castle, I shouldn't have snapped at you." What was he doing here, in the middle of the store, looking at her like – _what was that in his eyes?_

He held out his hand, motioning for the books in her hand. As she handed them over wordlessly, he spoke, "I saw what my publisher did, but I couldn't let you leave without signing your books. You were the only one here who looked like she was here for the words on the page, not for me." He smiled at her questioning look. "I saw you outside, even paused to talk to you, but you were so absorbed in that old copy of "In A Hail of Bullets" you didn't even see me! So what's your name?" His pen hovered above the title page, ready to write.

"Kate," she choked out, the interaction taking her by surprise, "It's Kate Beckett."

He smiled as he wrote a message she could not see. As she leaned in to read it, he turned slightly and angled the book up, blocking her view, smirking slightly as he did so. "No, no, Kate Beckett, this is for when you get home. Read it then, okay? Promise." Kate nodded, although she wasn't exactly sure why she was agreeing to his arrangement.

He flipped open her copy of "In A Hail of Bullets", read Johanna's post-it, now taped onto the page to make sure it wouldn't get lost, and started laughing hysterically. Kate blushed, suddenly embarrassed at the critical tone of the note, and started to explain, "That's my mother's. She really liked the book, actually all of yours, but she liked to give me recommendations, and they always had to have a realist note to them…" her voice drifted off, realizing that this was the most she had talked about her mother in the last two years, and surely Richard Castle would not care.

Castle looked at her, and smiled, simultaneously assuaging her concerns while sending a flurry of butterflies through her stomach and a second, deeper blush to her cheeks. "It's the best review I've read. 'A bit overwrought, but it'll take you for a ride.' I'm going to have to remember that. What's your mother's name? I'll sign the book to her as well."

Kate blinked back the tears that always sprung to her eyes when someone assumed her mother was still alive, composing her emotions quickly. It was becoming a talent of hers, and one that she needed to have perfected before she entered the Policy Academy in the fall. "Her name's Johanna Beckett."

He signed quickly, closed the books and handed them back to Kate with a grin. Looking over his shoulder at the blonde woman staring daggers at the pair of them before turning back to Kate, he offered a final greeting. "Well, Kate Beckett, it was truly a pleasure meeting you. And remember, no reading those notes until you get home!"

Kate smiled back at the books, before looking up at the author, remembering why she had come to the store in the first place. "Thank you, Mr. Castle. For signing the books – but mostly for having written them. Really, truly – thank you, Mr. Castle, thank you."

Walking away, he turned to offer two last words to the intriguing woman he had just met, "It's Rick!" before his body disappeared into the mass of fans, paparazzi, and Black Pawn employees.

Kate stood there, stunned, running her hand over the covers of the books in her arms. Had that really happened? She grinned, nearly flipped open the covers to read Mr. Castle's – no, she thought, _**Rick's**_ – signature, but resolved to keep her promise. She'd read them when she got home, which couldn't come fast enough. She rushed out of the store, hurrying home to her dorm room.

What could Richard Castle have written to her?

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_Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews urging me to continue! I hope you enjoy this taste of the past… and WHATEVER could "Mr. Castle" have written to the 22 year old Kate Beckett? ;)_

_Please, please leave reviews! I can't get better without your help. :D_


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